


Twisting this fate in the scene of eternity

by sunshine_kitcat (moonkevin)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: 5+1 Things, 5+1 but it's actually 6+1 bc i cant count for shit, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cute, First Dates, First Kiss, First Love, First Meetings, Fluff, Funny, I hope, Idiots in Love, Love, M/M, Self-Discovery, Strangers to Lovers, Summer Love, Summer Vacation, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:00:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21771862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonkevin/pseuds/sunshine_kitcat
Summary: Fate was a fantasy concept.The very idea that it was some kind of timeline all beings follows is a load of crap, even if it may be the very reason Jisung is staring at his future soulmate.“I don’t believe in fate, but you’re the closest thing to proof I’ve ever had in my life.”“That makes two of us.”Alternatively; Six times Jisung had to guess fate's plan and the one time fate let him be.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Liu Yang Yang, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin, Park Jisung/Zhong Chen Le
Comments: 4
Kudos: 77
Collections: DreamXmas 2019





	Twisting this fate in the scene of eternity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jinnieshyun (angelsouls)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsouls/gifts).



> For my moonshine, moonlight, angel and love,
> 
> AHHHH what to say? I suppose... this is basically a love confession? Self-projection? You know what I mean. If you could hear my squeal when I saw your name on my partner email. I planned on writing two just because it's you, but I decided to funnel all my self-projection into one instead. You can basically take Jisung's obsession and fondness for Lele and times it by a million... and you still wouldn't be close to how much I love you moonshine. Light of my life, amazing writer, a true icon to us all,... The list goes on! I love you to the moon and past that, Shreya <3
> 
> I hope you enjoy!  
> Your Kit Kat

_1._

Fate doesn’t exist.

The concept that there is a pre-written, pre-planned and pre-everything life written out for everything in the world is, frankly, ridiculous. There’s no feasible way to predict every human being’s train of thought, even if it’s a pre-written script. Every performance has ad-libs, and every performer inevitably messes up somewhere along the show. There are twisted tongues and unclear memories and unclear tongues and twisted memories. Summed together, we get unpredictable lives of any being, be it a rock, a tree or an exhausted dance student. Astrologists tell others that fate exists, simply not in the frame most believe it to be. When the stars align, or when they move ever so slightly, a cosmic phenomenon happens, and suddenly human decision is affected by some gravitational force occurring millions of light-years away. Somehow, every soul is a star, and every colliding star means a coincidence happens. Theoretically, choice is an illusion, and we’re all chained down by mundane day-to-day happenings of cosmic phenomenons that happen so frequently that to call them a phenomenon would be an over-exaggeration. There is no impulse, there is no instinct, and there is certainly no choice.

What a load of crap.

Somewhere between the crackling embers in the bonfire, the bustling sidewalks of people heading home and the loud cheers of teenagers who don’t quite want to go home yet, there’s a sigh of content. There’s a boy, sitting on the wooden (plastic) chairs by the fire, staring at the dancing flames and wondering how long he’ll have before his friends in Korea start asking where he is. His mind wanders to a ridiculous missing person’s poster and deduces that he should probably let the others know he wasn’t dead. Not yet, anyway.

To sum it up shortly, Park Jisung probably shouldn’t have gone to Canada anyway, with his limited English skills and even more limited logical skills. This is proven by the fact that he boarded a 13-hour flight halfway across the world simply because his cousin decided to stay in Korea on a whim, and he freeloaded off of the already-booked-and-bought ticket and hotel information. Ticket return prices are ridiculous anyway, and Jisung was anything but wasteful.

In a series of, ah, interesting events, Jisung managed to get checked in and settled into his room, anyway. He briefly thinks to sleep off the jet-lag, even though the noon sun was beating and his sleep-puffy cheeks. Logical reasoning (surprisingly) won that debate, and Jisung pulled himself out of bed to explore the capital city his cousin had been babbling about. 

The centre of the town was called the Byward Market, an open scheme of shops and stalls to resemble the old European style markets. The scent of pastries and fresh produce filled the air, and ice cream shops lined the streets like pigeons line electrical lines. Jisung spends the day practically lost, only to find a cute stranger who spoke too many (just enough) languages taking pity on him. Jisung was no stranger to instantly clicking with people, despite his insistence that fate and soulmates don’t exist, but this stranger was an odd case of everything Jisung could ever look for in another human being. He learnt that the stranger was Zhong Chenle, from China. He discovered that Chenle was also here on a solo trip to rediscover his creative muse and that Chenle was fluent in Korean, Chinese and English. The little Jaemin voice in the back of Jisung’s mind called this fate, and he was quickly dismissed.

In whatever case, they ended the day exhausted, slumping onto the plastic lawn chairs by the nightly bonfire Ottawa lights in the middle of its open-air market. Silence conquered their conversations, despite the humid August air being filled with nightlife and excitement all around them. Slowly, Chenle caught Jisung staring at him with interest and grins a toothy grin.

“Tell me about yourself,” Jisung asks, ever the awkwardly blunt one. Chenle shrugs in response.

“What is there to say? We already played twenty questions,” Chenle points out. Jisung’s left eye twitches in annoyance because starting a conversation was hard when you know virtually nothing about the other human beings talking to you. One could only discuss the weather so many times. Chenle seemed to revel in making Jisung suffer socially.

“Ten questions actually, since I can only really tell ten mildly interesting facts about you,” the boy mutters, scowling at the way Chenle seems to revel in his misfortune.

“You imply my name isn’t interesting. Also that my age, fluency in three languages and major are irrelevant,” Chenle raises an eyebrow, although his voice is more teasing than offended.

“Even then, that’s hardly twenty questions, unless we can count mathematical incompetence since you can’t count to twenty,” Jisung smiles, already resettling into his seat. Chenle opens his mouth to retort, yet nothing can come out. It’s scary, how easily Jisung finds comfort in a stranger he only met hours ago. The little Jaemin-Literature-Major voice in Jisung’s mind tells him the plot is basically The Sun is Also a Star, Jaemin’s favourite book as the world’s biggest romantic and preacher of fate. Jisung doesn’t believe in the concept of falling in love in 18 hours with such little prompting, and so he promptly tucks that little sign of fate into the trash bin of his mind.

“I mainly paint with oil-paint,” Chenle sighs, finally resigning to entertain Jisung. The latter jumps back to reality, turning his head to face Chenle. The other is counting on his fingers, in the fancy way only Asian mothers and accountants do where they count the sections the finger too. He’s at 15, which Jisung deduces to be Chenle’s attempt at finishing twenty questions. Jisung hums.

“I suck at math,” Jisung returns the favour, counting fact number 15 on his finger. Chenle raises a confused eyebrow.

“You said you were top of your class?”

“Beats me. If those suckers decided I deserved to be there, then I guess I’m there,” Jisung shrugs, looking unbothered. Chenle looks like he wants to say more, but he resigns.

“I’ve never done Cubism, Abstract or any of those wacky styles, unlike most of the kids in my major,” Chenle continues, showing via his finger that they’re at 16.

“I could’ve gotten the second-highest marks in high school, but I spent my free time dancing instead.”

“Sounds about right.”

“Shut up.”

Chenle cackles at that, practically falling off of his chair. Jisung cracks a smile, joining Chenle in their little fit of giggles. Chilly night air brings puffs of breath out, and Jisung is once amazed by how cold this country is. It’s only August.

“I lost my dog when I was three, lost my grandma when I was five and lost my sanity when I started university,” Chenle forces out all at once, and Jisung can’t help but frown. Chenle rolls his eyes at it.

“Don’t say sorry. You have no idea how insincere it sounds. We never got along,” Chenle snaps, and Jisung instantly feels bad. His frown softens, and a small smile creeps up. The smile’s sympathetic because Jisung isn’t good at following instructions, but he tries to keep it light-hearted.

“You’re not insane.”

“Yet.”

“That makes two of us,” Jisung deadpans, and Chenle is a fit of giggles again.

“Your turn,” Chenle says, once he’s recovered from his dying breaths. Jisung chuckles lightly.

“I was scouted by two kpop companies, I sleep on my side, I’m gay and I like dogs.”

An eyebrow raises.

“Only two?” Chenle teases. Jisung laughs, lowering his hand and losing his count. Chenle watches as Jisung realizes it, laughing as the younger groans in disbelief.

“You seem to have missed the important one in that,” Jisung notes, to which Chenle only shrugs at.

“Being gay? I honestly can’t care less,” Chenle smiles, and Jisung feels instantly relieved. If the latter was homophobic, they’d have some serious problems. Somewhere in the distance, the Canadian Government starts its annual summer firework shows, interrupting their blissful conversation. Jisung watches the colourful bursts over the tall buildings around him, letting the fact that it was probably the morning in Korea, and that he should call Jeno or Donghyuck before Jaemin reports his missing persons report to the police.

“I should get going now,” Jisung mumbles, disappointment in his voice. Chenle looks at him with a thinking look, debating internally before he taps on Jisung’s shirt pocket with a smile.

“Fact number 20, Might want to write it down,” Chenle breathes as if he’s sharing some kind of secret. Jisung frowns but complies anyway, taking out his phone. Chenle leans into Jisung’s ear and starts listing numbers. Jisung types it out dutifully before his sleep-deprived brain finally realizes that—

“It’s a phone number,” Jisung breathes, brain catching up with his epiphany. Chenle stands up and starts walking away, a secret smile on his lips.  
“Call me tomorrow. You choose where we go.”

At a pace snails would laugh at, Jisung let it settle in that he, in all his clumsy and idiotic self, just got asked out.

_2._

Somewhere between the giddy rush of getting asked out and the overwhelming desire to drop dead on a hotel bed and pass out for 48 hours, Jisung remembers to call Jeno and ask him to restrain Jaemin. After that, he passes out for a little upward of 12 hours, and Jisung wakes up not-at-all rejuvenated. His phone dings with a bright good morning text from Chenle, who is either faking it via text or genuinely not human. Jisung could not answer, roll back to sleep and forget about the hangout entirely, or he could get up and get dressed right now.

Spoiler alert: He wakes up.

“Where are you taking me?” Chenle asks, barely avoiding walking into another street lamp. Jisung cringes at the close call, wondering if the blindfold idea had been a bad one. He pulls out his phone, scanning his notes for the directions his cousin sent him. 

“Somewhere you’ll enjoy,” Jisung mutters, looping one arm around Chenle’s waist to prevent any more close calls. A flock of loons watches overhead, the leading one staring at Jisung straight in the eyes. Jisung briefly debates the stupidity that would come at having a staring contest with a bird before deciding to stick his tongue out at it anyway. The bird, unused to human customs, does not even flinch. What a bitch.

“I hear birds, I smell the water and I think one of them almost pooped on me, so I’m guessing we’re by the river?” Chenle guesses, reminding Jisung that he was, in fact, in public. Jisung is suddenly very grateful for his idea of putting a blindfold on Chenle. He’d rather appear college-age before proving that he was mentally five. Jisung is saved from entertaining Chenle when a large, faded sign appears in his sight. Smiling, Jisung stops Chenle in his track, the other hand undoing the blindfold. Chenle blinks, eyes adjusting to the bright sunlight before his head tilts to read it.

“‘White Water Rafting! Available for individuals, pairs and groups of twenty or less. No annoying the birds, nor the humans. We will not be responsible for any missing limbs caused by either party’,” Chenle read in English. Jisung decided that it sounded close enough to what his cousin was trying to tell him through the phone. He smiles, leaning onto the waist level rock wall and smiling. 

“Would you like to take a trip with me?” Jisung grins, hoping he looks charming and cool. Chenle shows no reaction to the pose, simply smiling lightly and pointing at Jisung’s head. The younger boy follows Chenle’s gesture to his bangs, where he sees the very edge of webbed feet. He yelps, jumping nearly a foot to shoo off the bird. It was the same one he had stuck his tongue out at. It seems Canadian Loons were smarter than most give them credit for. Chenle laughs, a high pitched and melodic sound that has Jisung’s heart beating a little faster, and flashes a toothy grin at Jisung.

“I’ll be on bird chasing duty if you’ll row.”

“Deal.”

Jisung prays the river is calm.

-

The river was about as calm as Donghyuck when Twice released Fancy, which is to say, hyper and downright scary. The water roared at about a million miles an hour, and Jisung pants heavy breaths when they get to the rapids. The way back would be easier, since they’ll be going the same direction as the water, but that was only if they came back before 2 PM. Somehow, looking at the island Chenle wanted to picnic at, Jisung dreads the state of his muscles that night. He wishes someone could give him a time machine to go back and tell past-Jisung to go to the gym with Jeno, so current-Jisung wouldn’t have to suffer so hard.

“The loons are so pretty,” Chenle singalongs, throwing a clump of bread at a flock of devil birds, and Jisung swears he recognizes one of them. They hold their gaze for half a second before the loon speeds over to feed on Chenle’s extended hand. The boy squeals with delight, and Jisung bites back a remark. 

He’d sound like he’s jealous of a fucking bird.

“Sungie! Let’s take a break, this one likes me,” Chenle calls over, and Jisung can only sigh at the fact that his hard work is completely overhauled by a sneaky little bird. He scoots over to the centre of the boat, and Chenle is at least attentive enough to move too. The result is a little claustrophobic, with Chenle’s legs squished between Jisung’s own as their faces are mere inches apart. Jisung sucks in a breath, eyes wandering everywhere but Chenle’s own, not sure he could hold a proper gaze without bursting in embarrassment. The Chinese boy, ever the opposite of cheesy stories where Jisung would be severely offending someone, pulls him down to stare at his eyes. Jisung notes that Chenle’s eyes are a brilliant shade of brown, all warm and cuddly and really heckin' cute. If anyone was asking, Jaemin was not right when he said Jisung was in love.

“You look like you’re jealous of something,” Chenle teases, breaking the pregnant silence that fell over them. Jisung’s cheeks flushed pink, and he can only duck under the attention. His shoulders hunch in, a shy smile blooms on his face and it’s the moments like these when Jisung gets why the others call him a baby chick. Chenle laughs and Jisung’s internal monologue has him revelling at his victory over Monsieur Quacks-A-Lots. he’s childish like that.

“I’m not jealous of anything. Just a little hungry,” Jisung denies, although he knows he’s about as convincing as the loons are at feigning innocence. Chenle searches for something in his eyes, squinting before sighing and leaning back onto one side of the boat. Jisung yelps, leaning back on his side too to keep it from capsizing. Chenle doesn’t even laugh at this, simply watching Jisung struggle as he stares off into the distance. Jisung stares at the sunlight bouncing off of Chenle’s soft blond hair. It makes the locks look impossibly soft, and Jisung realizes that angels come to Earth sometimes.

“If you’re tired, we could just stop at Victoria Island instead of going to Petrie,” Chenle voices his thoughts, looking at Jisung for his opinion. The Korean boy stares in disbelief, guilt eating at him because it’s only day one, and he’s disappointing Chenle. A frown finds his way onto Jisung’s face, but before he could even feel bad for himself, Chenle’s halfway towards the oars. Jisung gapes at Chenle struggling to row, and a fond feeling blooms in Jisung’s heart at the thoughtfulness of the boy sitting across from him.

“Lele, I thought you were on bird duty,” Jisung smiles, stumbling over to take the oars from the struggling boy. Chenle scrunches his nose at Jisung, rising in challenge.

“Can’t let you do all the work while I’m out feeding birds. I’m going to do this,” Chenle holds his ground, crossing his arms in determination. Jisung feels the urge to pinch Chenle’s cheeks and call him cute for being so kind, yet his hands defiantly stay at his side. Or maybe it’s his brain that’s the defiant one here.

“Lele, I’d like to eat lunch soon, ‘kay? You can row the way back,” Jisung sighs, although a smile fights its way onto his face. Before Chenle can even argue, Jisung grabs his midnight blue raincoat and wrestles the boy back to the middle of the boat. Chenle pouts, looking unbearably cute.

“This isn’t fair~” Chenle whines, trying to steady himself on the rocking boat. Jisung snorts. He opens his mouth to retort, but before he can even do anything, Chenle clutches his stomach and rams himself against the edge of the boat. Jisung’s eyes become large omelettes as he stumbles over to help the other boy. It’s a gross sight, as most of these sights go, but Jisung’s attention isn’t on the mess.

“Lele, we’re taking the bus back. We’re leaving the boat at Victoria and we’ll spend the rest of the day doing something else, ‘Kay?” Jisung mutters. Chenle’s eyes waters and the boy looks heartbreakingly sad.

“I ruined it.”

Jisung shakes his head. He places his hand on the side of Chenle’s face, bringing it close to stare into the other boy’s eyes. A breathless silence passes between Chenle’s glossy eyes and Jisung’s worried gaze before the flock of lions squawks again, and Jisung swears he’s going to choke them all.

“You ruined nothing. It’s only day one of me meeting you Lele. Bad first day outings don’t mean bad forevers,” Jisung reassures. The Na Jaemin voice in the back of his head tells Jisung he’s immensely proud that Jisung is finally getting some action, and Jisung quietly shows the Na Jaemin voice to the door. This is a hangout, at best, and nowhere near a date. Internally, Jisung knew this would be a problem somewhere down the road. Maybe some useless pining like those cliche movies always have. For some reason, Jisung dreads that moment when his life would crumble into a series of cliches that resembles fate to a degree he really wouldn’t enjoy. Jaemin or Donghyuck would give him The Talk and Jisung would be forced to address the miscommunicated problem.

Oddly enough, his stomach churns at the thought of a disappointed Chenle.

(And perhaps the biggest problem in this whole arrangement was the fact that Chenle very much thought this was a date. He planned to kiss Jisung breathless as they went through the river, but seasickness has him helpless as they travel down. The wind is a salty mix of regret, anger and frustration, yet Jisung’s warm hand is a reassurance, kindness and everything Chenle could want from a boy he’s fallen in love in less than a day. 

He thinks of Renjun, who secretly loves romance novels. The elder had slid him a copy of the Sun is Also a Star with a note for him to find someone in Ottawa and send updates back. Renjun’s boyfriend, Yangyang, has to physically restrain Renjun from combusting when Chenle told them the news.

Somehow, rejection hurts less when he knows some people will take him in regardless.)

_3._

Objectively, art makes absolutely no fucking sense.

If Jeno could hear Jisung, the art major would disown Jisung and call him an uncultured swine. But Jeno isn’t here.

Subjectively, Jisung is simply an uncultured swine.

“It’s literally a big metal spider Lele, I don’t see the appeal?” Jisung deadpans. Chenle glares at him, although the Chinese boy’s oversized pink hoodie and black sweats combined with his fluffy yellow hair make him about as intimidating as a stack of pancakes. They’re in front of the NGC, the big art museum, the residents of the city takes pride in. The greeting attraction is a 30-feet tall giant, black metal spider, frankly, just creepy to have as the first thing people see before entering the museum. The city is sunny today, much like every normal day so far, and the looming spider sends chills down Jisung’s spine. He can’t imagine having to see it on a foggy day or worse, a snowy day. Dark lighting and overall cold weather would probably make Jisung screech in fear at the sight of this monstrosity.

“Let’s go in then, mister ‘Art is boring’,” Chenle huffs, pulling Jisung in by one hand. The Korean male laughs at his new friend’s (boyfriend? No, not yet) puffed-out cheeks and follows. The air-conditioned building is a welcomed attraction, between the August heat and the ice cream cone Jisung held in his hand. Chenle notes it, leaning down to devour half of Jisung’s precious food in one big bite.

“Hey!” Jisung exclaims, pulling the ice cream away. Chenle just grins in response.

“It’s melting Sungie. And no food in the exhibit, remember?” Chenle singsongs, bouncing over to the visitor centre counter for their tickets. Jisung grumbles in response, shoving the entire cone into his mouth before wiping his hand on his jeans and running after Chenle. The glass walls welcome sunlight with every step of Jisung’s path, and by the time he reaches the counter, Chenle stares at him under the heavenly yellow glow of sunlight. Somehow, Jisung doesn’t choke.

(“What a surprise!” Donghyuck teases that night, when Jisung is telling his friends about his day.)

“Two full-day passes and three cafeteria coupons,” Chenle announces, handing Jisung his paper bracelet pass. The latter frowns, creasing his eyebrow in confusion.

“Three? Aren’t we two?” Jisung asks. Chenle rolls his eyes, handing Jisung two of the three coupons with a pat on the head.

“You eat like a pig Sungie. Full offence to that,” Chenle teases, ignorant to Jisung’s indignant gasp. The Chinese male pulls his friend towards the first exhibit, one about LGBT+ art in the celebration of Capital Pride. Why do they have it in August, Jisung can’t quite understand. His history nerd cousin would tell him the entire story of some group of gays who got together and started a protest, but Jisung has always been a little ignorant of the world around him.

The day flies past in a blur of bright colours and smiles, where the bounce in Chenle’s step only energized as the day progresses. The other boy spends the entirety of lunch telling Jisung about how expressionism is secretly the best art style, and Jisung can only dumbly nod along and eat his burger. There’s the illusion of peace and privacy in the busy food court thanks to Chenle’s grand gestures and small words. They’ve created their own world in the public space, and Jisung can’t help but notice the fond smile the museum curator has at Chenle dragging Jisung around like an excited preschooler. He agrees with the fondness, seeing as his heart is but an explosion of fireworks and butterflies.

And if Jisung spends more time staring at Chenle than the paintings, much to the chagrin of Jeno, then no one is the wiser. Jaemin praises his ability to grow a pair of eyes, and Donghyuck tells Jisung to remember to have Donghyuck as his best man at the wedding. Jisung wonders how expensive it would be to hire someone to punch Donghyuck in the face.

(Arguably, Jeno and Jaemin would gladly do so, as long as it’s gently and with their mouths. Jisung calls them gross and hangs up before anyone could protest)

“Sungie?” A light voice pulls Jisung from worrying about the future. The boy looks up, meeting gaze with Chenle. There are a furrowed brow and a worried, tight-lipped frown on the Chinese boy’s face, and Jisung can’t help but feel utterly crushed seeing him like that.

“What’s up?” Jisung tried to sound casual, although it’s kind of failure. Chenle bites his bottom lip, nervously fiddling with his fingers as his eyes searched for something in Jisung’s own. Sighing, Chenle drops his hands and slaps Jisung’s shoulder.

“Hey!”

“If you didn’t want to go, you could’ve said something,” Chenle sighs, crossing his arms and pouting. It’s adorable, Jisung’s brain supplies, although he never asked.

“You didn’t want to go rowing either,” Jisung says instead, “so it’s only fair. Now we know what each other like,” he smiles, trying to reassure the other boy. He earns a weak smile in return.

“You sure you don’t want to split up and do our own thing?” Chenle laughs, cheer empty and anxiety-filled. Jisung rubs his hand on the smaller boy’s back, pulling him into a hug as if they weren’t standing in the middle of an exhibit full of people. Somehow, Jisung doesn’t freeze up in the attention, nervous tics muted and silent. He squeezes Chenle tight, leaning in to whisper and reassure in his friend’s ear.

“Never.”

_4._

“What do you see when you close your eyes?” Chenle whispers. Jisung discreetly turns towards Chenle, careful to not distract the lady sitting behind them. They already got an earful earlier before the show, anyway. He keeps an ear on the orchestra and another on Chenle, leaning over ever so slightly to whisper in the boy’s ears.

“My eyelids?” Jisung answers, an innocent response to a question with a much deeper meaning. He supposes it’s a little mean of him since he knows perfectly what Chenle wanted him to talk about. They’re in an auditorium, all gold and bright with a fancy crystal chandelier overhead. There’s a ballet on the stage, one Donghyuck watches in an attempt to back up his claim of being a lover of all forms of arts. The theatre is silent and Jisung can spy everyone from his perch on the top floor. The upper class is abundant, all in their fancy hats and opera glasses to watch the show. There’s a crowd of uni students, whose drooping heads is enough to tell Jisung they’re absolutely falling asleep. Donghyuck would be proud of how observant he is, although Jeno probably won’t be proud of how he’s not paying attention to the show. Chenle scowls next to him, giving Jisung an unimpressed look.

“Sungie,”

A soft laugh. The lady behind them glares again, and they duck their heads to say sorry.

“I guess... a dance? I’m a dancer,” Jisung hums quietly, beckoning Chenle closer so they can whisper peacefully. Chenle hums in contemplation, leaning back into his seat. Jisung stares at him in confusion, not sure what the other boy wanted him to say. A beat of silence passed between them, ignoring the symphony happening below. Slowly, Chenle leans back over, lips so close to Jisung’s ears he might as well be nibbling it.

“Close your eyes. Listen to the music and tell me everything you can sense except for the sound,” Chenle orders, and Jisung is nothing but compliant to the elder boy. He closes his eyes, leans into the chair and lets the music takes over. The violins pick up speed in his ear, and Jisung tries to internalize the sound to follow Chenle’s instructions. There’s a symphony of images in his mind, looking like one of those stock wallpaper photos computers come with by default. There’s an overhead shot of a waterfall, a beautiful mix of blues and greens like those paintings Chenle was so insistent on staring at yesterday. Next to the rush of water is a small clearing, and Jisung’s love for adventure is spiked at the thought of scaling the rocky cliffside to revel in the view from there. There’s a rush of excitement in the orchestra, and Jisung’s mind runs through the scenario to climb up, finally feeling the emotions of the music ringing in his ears. He’s about to reach the top, about to swing himself onto the cliffside when the piece boils over, and silence is only kept away by an emotional violin solo. Jisung opens his eyes, watching the ballet dancer spin on stage under the solo spotlight, looking like a graceful swan. And yet Jisung can only think about the way her foot is slightly off-balanced, a perfect little imperfection that gives the whole scene a humane charm to it.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Chenle smiles, prompting Jisung to turn his gaze away from the show.

“Is this your trick to getting people to appreciate the arts?” Jisung whispers, a soft smile on his lips. The other boy shrugged, but the confirmation was there anyway. They watch in silence again, and Jisung returns to his old habit of staring at people watching the show rather than watching it himself. Chenle will inevitably tell him all about it anyway, seeing a million things Jisung probably would’ve glossed over anyway. The tiny Jaemin voice in Jisung’s head tells him this is frighteningly adorable, how comfortable he is with someone he’s only interacted with for four days. For some reason, Jisung can’t find it in him to mind.

“What do you see?” Jisung whispers, emphasizing the ‘you’ towards Chenle. The other boy bites his bottom lip, contemplating his answer.

“Do you know what synesthesia is?”

Jisung nods dumbly, although it was the first time he’s ever heard the term. He prays google will be sufficient later.

“I see blue, but also the taste of tarts, y’know?” Chenle whispers. Jisung raises an eyebrow.

“How do you see a taste?” The boy wonders out loud. Chenle shrugs.

“I’m a synesthete,” Chenle says in place of an explanation, and Jisung is left with more questions than answers. Regardless, Jisung tries to push them back anyway, an attempt to satisfy this sudden pique of interest for anything Chenle related.

Jaemin would call it puppy love and Donghyuck would roll his eyes at Jisung, but Jisung won’t be able to find it in himself to mind. He’s accepted the fact that he is, in every sense of the word, in love.

(Synesthesia confuses the senses, and it brings out an unrivalled beauty to life a few can enjoy. Chenle has always loved his synesthesia, never mind the way it brings him to the oddest of situations and the strangest of crowds, but it’s never been confusing to live with it. Synesthesia is another facet of his life to live with, just like most people have internal monologues or overthinking brains. Chenle wasn’t one to feel confused over something as trivial as seeing yellow while listening to children laughing.

Love, in a way, was the same as synesthesia. It’s scary, terrifying and an absolute mystery. It’s the fear of rejection and the sting of imagined hurt that confuses Chenle’s brain when Jisung’s hands duck away so quietly when they walk out of the theatre. It’s the euphoria of acceptance and the feeling of being cherished that baffles Chenle’s brain when Jisung wraps his arms around Chenle’s waist protectively when the flood of people stumble over one another on the way out. It’s exciting, fulfilling and everything Chenle could ever want and love.

In more ways than not, it’s nothing like the confusion of senses he’s grown so accustomed to.

“Don’t hurt yourself Lele. Tell him,” Yangyang tells him over the phone that night. Chenle wallows in self-pity.

“It gets worse before it gets better Lele. Find out while it still doesn’t hurt too bad.”

The problem? It’s already too late.)

_5._

Jisung doesn’t know what to think of the parade, in all honesty.

In a mess of rainbow colours and flags, and a questionable amount of powder paint, the Capital Pride Parade resembled a large scale paintball game, and Jisung can’t help but be in awe from it. He faintly registers some cheesy pop song blasting from the float’s speakers, letting himself be immersed in the music for a while. Chenle had to snap his fingers in front of Jisung’s face for the younger boy to look away from the mesmerizing swirls of colours in front of him.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Jisung breathes, entranced by the city’s colourful residents and their loud festivities. Different from home, Jisung noticed. Chenle beams at him.

“It's wonderful. Like cuddling a warm, fuzzy blanket, y’know? I see the same things,” Chenle laughs, eyes gazing downwards. His lips thin into a heavy line as if something weighed him down. Jisung frowns, concern in his eyes as he wraps an arm around Chenle.

“You okay?” Jisung whispers, rubbing circles into the boy’s back. Chenle nods his head, hands going up to rub at his temples. He mumbled something, but Jisung can’t catch a syllable over the loud music. Another arm wraps around Chenle, and Jisung leads them to the side of the parade. They’d continue to Parliament, but there were plenty of things to do along the way.

“Wanna get ice cream?” Jisung grins cheekily. Chenle smiles weakly at him, but it’s a little too weak for Jisung’s taste. They end up getting ice cream anyway, and Jisung is adamant about paying. Jaemin gasps in his brain, incredulous that Park Jisung has finally grown a pair and gives his crush ice cream, Cupid’s chosen food of love. And if Jeno tries to tell anyone it’s supposed to be chocolate, he’s wrong. 

They find a nearby park bench to settle into, watching from a safe distance as the rest of the park’s paths are covered in vibrant joy. Jisung turns to check up on Chenle, sucking in a breath when he sees the other boy. He’s never been one for cheesy descriptions, which is why Jeno loves him in contrast with his two boyfriends, yet he can’t help but see the stars in Chenle’s existence. His strawberry ice cream melts slightly in his hand, yet Jisung can’t find it in himself to care when the sweetest existence is right in front of him, getting ice cream onto his cute button nose. Jisung resists the urge to lick the ice cream off of Chenle’s nose, too sure that the gesture would be reserved only for couples. Instead, he clears his throat.

“Do you get sensory overload?” Jisung asks, earning a frown from Chenle.

“Why do you ask?”

“With all the confusion, isn’t it easier to be overburdened?” Jisung wonders aloud, staring at Chenle. Chenle bites his bottom lip, lowering his ice cream and Jisung is sure he’s screwed up big time this time. Before he can apologize, Chenle looks at him in the eye.

“Yeah, I get pretty overwhelmed. Normally Injun-ge or Yang-ge gets me out fast but well,” the Chinese boy gestures to their surroundings, “they’re not here.”

Jisung is silent. Chenle continues.

“They call me a freak back home. Like what kind of artist smells the paint instead of looking at it. Or what kind of art major can’t work in a noisy studio, since we must persist always. Sometimes, when it becomes too much, I just sit back and look around and realize, almost painfully, that I don’t belong here. No matter how well I paint, or how much effort I spend on my work, I don’t belong in that studio of creative, straightforward mind. They all have their styles too, a bit of their personality in every brushstroke while I’m still trying to get used to which colour is which, since it tastes and smells all different now. Some of them are even sounds, and I get so much more overwhelmed and confused. I’m not normal!” Chenle rants, heaving his chest in quiet tears. Slowly, he looks up and meets Jisung’s gaze.

“I’m not normal, Sungie.”

“Normal’s overrated, y’know.”

“That’s an overused sentiment, Sungie,” Chenle sighs. Jisung grins at him.

“No, it isn’t,” Jisung sighs, earning an eyebrow raise from Chenle, “C’mon, let’s be weird together. Just focus on me and ignore everything else,” Jisung smiles, taking the boy he loves into his arms and whizzing them back to the parade. They find a dance circle amid it, a sure cause for sensory overload. Jisung glances at Chenle for his reaction, yet the other boy only beams at Jisung. Go, he motions. And for once, Jisung listens to rationality. He pulls Chenle into the circle, dancing along to some old pop songs. Laughter rings in his ears, and Jisung can’t help but smile at Chenle enjoying the world. There’s a tiny flash of fear and pain in the other’s eyes, so Jisung grips Chenle’s hand to the point where it nearly bleeds. The elder looks at him with calming eyes, and the world is quiet for just the two of them. They dance and laugh for hours on end, letting the crowd sweep them up in a flurry of colours and joy. The tension is the air is nonexistent, like a world where only joy exists. Jisung’s face is a blissful shade of red, and the smile on his face is every shade of fond and protective. Chenle’s skin is practically glowing under the clouded sunlight, a brilliant shade of peachy perfection, tanned chocolate and everything in between. His smile is everything Jisung loves and more. Quietly, the younger boy pulls Chenle into a hug, right as the outro plays. If anyone were to look just a little closer, they’d see just the slightest brush of lips, hidden in the crowd's cheers and the rapid-like ocean of people streaming past. Two boys stand amid it, their hearts full and overwhelmed by the realization that they weren’t alone in their feelings. There’s a breathless little giggle that tumbles out of Chenle’s lips before Jisung finally gathers the courage to lean in a little further.

A little further than he would ever think to do. But they say the heart takes over the mind when it matters the most.

(And if Yangyang is fake crying about his baby finally growing up, then Chenle doesn’t want to come home for another three days. If Renjun nags him on ends to bring this mysterious new boyfriend home, then Chenle really doesn’t want to come home for another three days. It doesn’t matter if it’s all teasing or taunts of ‘I told you so’, Chenle doesn’t want to come home right then, anyway.

For he was finally truly accepted and loved. For he finally found another soul, one that shines as bright as the midday sun and holds him tight like the night’s deepest secret. For Chenle finally found love and all of its clumsy cuteness.)

_6._

In hindsight, fate doesn’t exist. There are too many emotions, too many wild thoughts and too many factors for the universe to send everyone a pre-made script on their life. Even if those things make up fate, that there is someone up there making 8 billion scripts is absurd. If anything happens for a reason, it is orchestrated by the people who desire that one reason, and if everything else is pure coincidence.

Chenle calls it bullshit, claiming that his one true love can’t possibly result from a mere coincidence, so Jisung lets the elder boy run rampant with his naïve mindset. He had nearly believed it, that the universe’s concept of fate finally gave him someone to help him believe, but it was the world’s biggest coincidence. Jaemin has given up on trying to change his mind, a feat Jeno and Donghyuck praise him about, for Jaemin was the very epitome of a determined meddler. Jisung laughs at Jaemin for this, for he finally has a good reason to do so. And if Jaemin had the perfect chance to get revenge on the next afternoon when Jisung went shopping for a tux, then he didn’t. The elder will call it fate, and Jisung will call him fond of his dongsaeng. His cousin sends him the address of a fancy hairdresser, apparently another one of his ‘connections’ in Ottawa, and Jisung only has so many things to keep his mind off the ball that night.

“Why am I going again?” Jisung whines into the call. On the other side, his cousin chuckles at Jisung’s pre-event panic.

“Hey, you were the one who wanted to take him to someplace special. I just loaned you the tickets,” Mark teases over the phone, and Jisung can practically hear his Canadian cousin laughing all the way from Seoul.

“Why do you have these, anyway?”

“I’m a gay celebrity Sungie. Of course, they’ll give me tickets to the biggest LGBT ball in Canada.”

And that was how Jisung stood in the middle of a room too brightly lit by a chandelier that would probably cost him his entire fortune to afford a small section of. The music was some old orchestra music, although Jisung wasn’t even listening. His eyes were focused on one singular person, nervously descending the stairs even though only one set of eyes was watching him. Their slip away from the crowd was a silent one, moving to the snack table like the antisocial teenagers they were. At least Jisung could blame it on the language barrier. And by extension, Chenle could claim to be keeping his boyfriend company.

Jisung breaks their silence, “I love calling you my boyfriend.” Chenle giggles, looping his arm under Jisung’s arm.

“I love calling you my boyfriend too,” Chenle mumbles, an adorable shade of pink dusting his cheeks. Jisung smiles at his shy boyfriend, revelling in how the tables have flipped now.

“Well then, boyfriend. May I have this dance?” Jisung offers his other hand, cheesy smile on his lips as Chenle rolls his eyes and takes it, anyway.

“You may, boyfriend.”

In hindsight, fate doesn’t exist.

In foresight, fate could very much exist.

Right now, Jisung believes in fate, for it has given his heart incomparable joy.

(The depressing reminder that their time was over was promptly ignored, drowned by flushed cheeks and flustered stammering as Renjun and Yangyang draw every detail about Jisung from Chenle over a grainy video call halfway across the world. Chenle is well over embarrassed at that point, saved by the boyfriend only when Jisung comes out of the shower and collapses next to his favourite person.

Jisung ended up getting grilled instead.

But it doesn’t matter anyway when online chatting IDs are exchanged and visits are planned. Jisung smiles and announces that he’ll tell every single novel writer out there to suck it because the internet exists just to spite failing long-distance relationships. Chenle calls him ridiculous, and that they’ll be lucky if this works out. They promise to make sure it works out. Pinky promise and everything, with their entire friend circle as their witnesses. Jaemin and Donghyuck fake cries in between arguments of who’ll be Jisung’s best man. Jeno is chosen as the best man regardless, for he is the one to kick them off the bed after 5 minutes. Renjun calls Jisung’s extended family weird, and Yangyang is three seconds away from becoming Donghyuck’s new best friend. The call ends from Chenle’s and Jisung’s side shortly after, letting the hyungs argue through their morning.

In hindsight, Chenle really couldn't care less if fate existed or not.

Whatever it was, Jisung was the one to hold Chenle that night, and he’ll be the one to hold Chenle for a long, long time.)

_+1._

“Why do you need this many paintbrushes?” A complaint echoes from down the staircase. Chenle turns around, tilting his head in feigned curiosity.

“Whatever do you mean, my love?” Chenle bats his eyelashes, giggling when his boyfriend grumbles at him. Jisung glares at him, struggling as his tired arms bring up Chenle’s box of brushes up to the upper part of their loft. Chenle takes enough pity on the boy to close the curtains—but only the light ones! Sunlight is a necessity in his studio.

“I mean, will you even use this many brushes?” Jisung complains. Chenle shrugs, not even sparing a glance before he tears the box open to retrieve his materials. Neatly sectioned into zones, his brushes stare back at him with an eagerness Chenle has only ever seen in Donghyuck’s reaction to Twice music videos and Jeno’s reaction to cats.

“Of course I will,” Chenle rolls his eyes, unpacking the acrylic brushes first, “every material has a soul, and only a specific set of brushes can bring that soul to my painting.

“You can’t expect me to properly paint without my materials, love,” Chenle smirks, sorting through his palette knives as Jisung sighs in disbelief.

“Why do you call me love?” Jisung groans, although Chenle can tell he secretly enjoys the pet name. It’s why he uses it.

“Would you rather be my baby?” Chenle challenges. He’s already started to organize them into their proper holster, a challenging feat for every artist. Out of the corner of his eye, the Chinese boy spies his boyfriend scowling.

“That’s my line,” the big baby whines, and Chenle only laughs at him.

“Shouldn’t you be at work, love?” Chenle asks. Jisung narrows his eyebrows.

“You were the one who wanted me to stay until you left for class?” Jisung asks back. Chenle, the ever coy one smirks.

“Then help me out! You’re the brawns in this relationship.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

A grin.

Between drawn curtains and soundproof walls, Chenle takes that secret moment to lean in and silence Jisung for at least that morning. The boy tastes like waffles and ice cream, with the sound of bluebirds and an array of wonderful reds and pinks on Chenle’s vision. This, he thinks, this love tastes like.

(And if Ten-nim noticed Chenle was late to class that day, or if Taeyong-hyung notices how late Jisung trickled in, then no one is the wiser. Everyone had their secret moments, and this one was never to be shared with the world.

Not until now, anyway.)

**Author's Note:**

> And that's a wrap! Thank you so much for reading, if you're not the person this was gifted for. And if you are my lovely moonshine, know that I love you!!!


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